


Greener Grass

by ImRobin



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bead, F/M, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4207146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImRobin/pseuds/ImRobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort-of-sequel to 'Dreams of Green', by Bead. Fili searches desperately for his One, and thinks her dead, until he thinks he's found her in the market...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I- Topaz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dreams of Green](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658188) by [Bead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead). 



> Many thanks to Bead, who caused me too much emotional pain to leave her short story alone. 
> 
> Topaz (red or otherwise)- brings in spiritual love, peace, creativity, individuality, true love, and hope.

She’s herding ponies at the far end of the market- was, probably, until he came strolling past. She was frozen in place like a goblin in sunlight, knuckles ghostly while gripping the gate to the fillies’ pen. Fili thinks she might faint, until one of her tender little hands flies to her slight breast and rubs, hard enough to wrinkle the fabric of her shirt.

He can’t hear her, but he sees her let out a sob, her mouth twisting in a strangled cry of raw, carnal emotion. Her dirty skirt bristles when she slips away from the rotten wood, taking a few shaky steps backwards, her lithe elbows shoving the crowd aside. Her dark hair (much darker than even Uncle’s,) flies around her as she throws her head about, searching tearfully for leverage, for him. It gets caught on strangers’ clothes, or the buckles of their belts, but she is determined, her fingers still pressed to her chest.

Not a single bead adorns her dark mane- the scruff of her beard is held together with nothing but a short length of frayed string. The sight of it _makes him want to cry_.

Fili imagines her in silk, draped in only the best, of course. Out of the dirt, she would be fine in deep, red topaz. Dori could tailor her something suitable. He’d make her royalty.

Fili’s heart swells as his boots take a life of their own and lurch him forward in the mud. Someone cries out angrily when he shoves them. He forgets to mutter an apology, all manners are gone now.

He would have to start with some stunning beads, something to keep her hair from her face, as tradition calls for it. He would tend to her tangled facial hair with golden combs, bathe her in warmed mountain water, dry her with soft woolen towels, and hold her until all the knots in her straining muscles have finally worn away.

Then, he would start adorning her- topaz, of course, then crystal, diamonds, gold, silver, platinum… And that _green_ , beautiful green beryl to match her deep eyes, that are surely hiding behind her overgrown bangs. He catches a glimpse of them when she whips her head to the right- his heart stops.

A prepubescent whine of unfiltered yearning rips from his throat when he imagines every single time he’ll be able to see those eyes. Passion rumbles in his stomach, the sound of a waking dragon. He starts pumping his legs. He’ll make her a crown of beryl, so fine that Mahal’s wife herself will beg him for a replica.

Yes, he can’t wait to see those pretty eyes; the eyes his children, grandchildren, great grandchildren will have. He will wither away with her and in his final moments crush her in a tight hug, knowing that they will soon be-

He stops.

For the first time in a long time, he wants to pray. He lowers his head and squeezes his eyes shut and prays that he didn’t see what he thought he saw.

He pries them open now, and for the first time notices how _little_ she is. Her clothes hang off her like a child in hand-me-downs, dragging in the dirt and grass and pony droppings. He watches as one particular pedestrian has grown tired of being shoved, and knocks her down. He ignores the sickening _thump_ her hips make when she lands and watches.

For a brief moment during her struggle, her large blouse is tugged flush against her as she rolls over and tries to hoist herself up. Not much fat. He can’t see her ribs, but a few more nights of _what he assumes is starvation…_

He becomes blind for a minute.

He remembers blood rushing to his head, and curses bubbling at the base of his throat. He’s so scared- he doesn’t know why, but he wants to just sit there and cry and be held by his Amad. Yet, he also wants to hold his sweet, frail little dwarrowdam, and…

He’s sitting in the dirt, arms curled around her skinny waist as he presses her face into the fur of his coat.

She can’t breathe very well (he can’t either), but all he knows is that she’s home now. Feverishly, he reaches for her, gingerly tugging her back by her dirty locks so that they can finally face each-other. She winces a bit, lets out a hiss, but is otherwise fine with it, reaching to cup his face with shaky, dirt-caked digits.

His final, eternal struggle wasting away, he brushes his hands through her hair. Her bangs are tugged back.

_…green. Green. Green!_


	2. Chapter II- Sapphire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I haven't seen this baby in a while. I'd like to dedicate this unexpected second chapter to Ansta, who's lovely comment inspired me to sort of continue this story. Don't know when I'll update again, but please enjoy a chapter I myself did not expect to write!

From the time that Vadi could sit up in a saddle, she was certain that Mahal had destined her for something beyond farmlands.

Her young life had consisted of an amalgamation of stunted friendships and near-constant movement; when Ma had been alive, she had made certain that her husband, daughter, and her string of ponies were always well-fed and warm. Vadi was always quick to make friends, whether it be with the children of man or dwarrow, but she was always quick to leave them for fresh pasture for their ponies or a sturdier roof over her family’s tired heads. _Such is the price of comfort_ , her Ma often preached, forever practical and strict.

Vadi had often envied the lives of those with coin in their pockets and gold in their beards. She often sniffed and spat at the sight of young dwarrow, barely half her height, already dressed in silks and velvets, careless about the state of their expensive clothing as they hopped about market like eager rabbit-kits, trailing mud and grasses in their silky, braided hair. However, she never stole. It was not their things that she wanted, anyhow.

She recalled many an evening, curled by a foreign fireplace, in a room her family was only renting, puffing and fitting and ranting to her Ma about the state of yet another careless noble-born in the town square, barely noticing the state of their boots or capes. _If I were them, I’d not be so careless,_ she’d snarl, settling into her Ma’s lap and burying her face in her dark beard.

Ma would always laugh, eyes gleaming with something too sour to be bitterness. _You’d not known any better,_ she’d respond, patient but ever-true.

Vadi would grin, then, gap-toothed and cocky. _Well,_ she’d say, with easy confidence, _when I’ve got the coin, you won’t see me trailin’ dirt. I’ll be the best-dressed dwarrowdam in all of Arda._

Ma would never say anything, though her father’s absent scoff was enough. Such realities, such _fantasies_ , were only true in bedtime tales.

And yet, as Vadi sat upon a silken bed, wrapped and furs and staring into a new foreign fireplace and in a room that was soon to be her very own, she questioned the Maker’s judgement for the first time in her short life.

Of all people to pair her with, of all the dwarrow that had ever been born, _why a crown prince?_

Over the happy roar and crack of the fire, Vadi heard mutterings in the hallway. Three—no, _four_ voices, seemingly arguing about _something_ , though it wouldn’t be foolish to assume it was about her. A peasant inside the walls of Erebor would surely be a subject of great debate for the length of her stay, no matter how long or permanent.

Fili had assured her things would be fine, and in all her imbecility, _she had believed him_. After their tumble in the market, with her emotions running high and the stab of The Longing keeping her distracted, she had hung on his every word. _I promise, no one’ll give you a second glance, not when I’m with you. I’ll explain everything to them, to my uncle. They won’t turn you away- I wouldn’t let them_.

Snarling to herself, Vadi rose to her feet and turned from the door, hurrying to the other end of the room and leaving the thought with the goose-feather mattress. Thorin Oakenshield was no character to be trifled with; he respected tradition, and heartily pursued greatness where it could be found. _Yes_ , he _had_ wed a Hobbit, but Belladonna Baggins was a lady of respect and bravery in excess. She was not just _any_ hobbit, but Vadi could _certainly_ pass as any dwarrowdam.

A stubborn tear cut through the fine layer of dirt on her face, though Vadi didn’t bother wiping it away. She would allow herself a cry, soon enough. This would all be confirmed as a mistake, in little time- just a lapse in thought on the prince’s behalf, and too much time in the sun on her own. They were just _distracted_ and _lonely_. The Longing was a _myth_ , it _must_ be. No Maker or creator of any kind would think of placing Fili and Vadi together, and if they did, then _damn them_ , it was _just not fair_.

The door behind her clicked open and creaked closed, but Vadi didn’t turn to face _him_. She wanted to keep some of her dignity, before she was asked to leave. It was only fair. Fili didn’t deserve her snotting all over his good furs.

“’m sorry, didn’t mean to be gone for so long,” he began, his voice trembling with an odd anxiety Vadi hadn’t noticed before. “Uncle insisted on running through the entirety of the traditional congratulatory speech that comes along with finding your _Zeizu_ , said he ‘missed out with Kili’ or something of the sort. _I_ thought it was all a bit much, but there’s no stopping Uncle when he starts his babbling, you know. Should have heard’m when Kili and I were pebbles, could barely keep himself contained… Vadi, is everything alright?”

Vadi hadn’t noticed that she was breathing shallowly again, like she had at the market. That voice, _damned_ be, was so soothing. It was too much for her. She could listen to him speak for hours- Mahal, he could describe the state of the dried pony droppings clinging to the ankles of her trousers and she’d _still_ be engaged!

When she tried to say something somewhat engaging, a broken sob escaped her lips, which sent him sailing across the room. Her dirty palm smacked hard over her dried lips, and Vadi instinctively curled in upon herself, as if she were to be beaten. Saliva and tears and bogies poured into the palm of her hand, and her shoulders trembled hard with her new attempt at silence. She didn’t need a mirror to tell that she probably looked a fright.

It was Fili’s hand at her back, secure and reassuring, that caused her breath to fall from her lungs with an audible _whoosh_. While her baby-sobs were still audible and tears still cleared her face, Vadi was soothed. For the first time since their meeting at the pony-pens, she relinquished herself to him.

“Why tears? Are you ill, hurt?” he demanded, gently turning her around by her knobbly elbows and staring down at her, the burn of his gaze concentrated on the top of her dark head of hair.

Vadi managed to shake her head _no_ , and she felt his grip relax slightly, though he didn’t let go of her. For his lingering touch, she was secretly grateful.

“…have I upset you?” he continued, his rumbling voice gone somber. While she refused to look up at him, Vadi could see the awkward shuffle of his boots as he tried to right his thoughts. “I can be thoughtless, sometimes. Uncle’s boxed my ears for it since Kili was born. Must say though… seein’ you cry about it’s a much more effective punishment. Have you two been conspiring? Is this payback for Kili’s first Yule? It’s not my fault I dropped ‘im, he shouldn’ve soiled ‘imself in my arms. He was only a pebble, sure, but I smelled like piss for the rest of the season.”

Vadi, for the briefest of moments, remained quietly breathless as Fili awkwardly released her arms. She didn’t have to look at him to know that he was certainly flushed ruby-red.

_The crown prince was absolutely ridiculous._

A snort and a hearty laugh erupted from her chest, and Vadi threw her head back with delight as she fought to breathe. Her laugh filled the room, an uncontrollable giggle, and new tears filled her eyes, though she did not hide them from Fili.

“You are a fool,” she managed to gasp through her laughter, finally turning her eyes to meet him.

He was watching her fondly, all golden and radiant from the light of the fire. His wide grin was both childish and captivating, and there was something very warm behind his eyes, eyes of a fine, pale sapphire.

“If I am half as foolish as you are beautiful, then I should renounce my crown and become court jester,” he responded, that deep, resonant sound in his voice all the more lovely between his own bouts of laughter.

Vadi’s cheeks flushed with delight as she subtly attempted to wipe her nose watery across her sleeve under his attentive gaze. “How did you manage to acquire such a tongue, your highness? Such a sharp weapon, I have never seen.”

“Mahal has blessed me with both beauty and wit, my lady. Though I must admit, he surely expelled all his efforts forging you. You are a _marvel_.”

Vadi’s mouth twisted bitterly, and suddenly, the room went cold and quiet again. Brushing her dark bangs from her eyes, Vadi sighed and shook her head absently.

“…I’m no more than a stablehand, your highness. I am many things, but I cannot be defined as a marvel. It is not in my birthright, to be called such pretty names. Such words are meant for your family— _your_ type of people.”

Vadi thought she might begin crying again, under the stress of it all, but Fili’s hands came to hers before her body could produce more tears. With a delicacy she wasn’t aware such a strong, tall dwarf could have, Fili kneeled before her with an easy smile, soft and radiant. His moustache twitched with his lips, and under his golden eyebrows, his own eyes seemed wet with tears, though she couldn’t fathom why. His strong fingers gave her dirty hands a squeeze before he bowed his head into them, his forehead coming to rest against her knuckles.

The scene was near-fantastical in nature, and if Fili’s warm breath wasn’t ghosting across her skin, she might’ve thought it to be a dream. He was perfect, all of him, his skin and scent and breath like the finest wine, numbing and enlightening her muddled senses all at once. Her heart glowed with the prospect of being able to have him this way, if even for a moment.

“You are my One, my _Zeizu_ ,” he said firmly, his facial hair scruffing the skin of her hands. “I am a part of you, just as you are a part of me. I, uh—oh, Mahal almighty, Amad will _kill_ me—I promise to cherish you, and all those things, until the end of my time, until I rejoin the great Mahal in his kingdom of Wealth and Greatness. I…”

“…are those courtship rights?”

His eyes rose to meet hers, and despite the shine of tears in them, they danced and gleamed.

“You know, I really _am_ trying. I’ve just gotten all distracted. Reciting these things are much easier when you don’t feel as if you’re choking on a mouthful of ale.”

“And now, you are comparing my presence to a mouthful of ale?”

“Very good ale. The finest. Spiced and foamy.”

“I am positively weak at the knees from your flattery.”

“Not flattery, just the truth. You are the most marvelous pint of ale I have ever seen.”

Rolling her eyes, Vadi squeezed Fili’s hands as she giggled a little more. He was shining with pride, and it was hard to keep a straight face at the sight of him, so genuine and sweet.

His thumbs smoothed over her hands as they gazed into one-another, and suddenly, Vadi forgot the expensive clothes he was wearing and the fine furs at her shoulders. All there was to pay attention to was _him._

A knock at the door caused Vadi to jump and yank her hands from Fili’s. The interruption was unappreciated, but necessary- Vadi could have stared at Fili for another hour at the least, if given the chance.

“I’m starting to doubt the fact that anyone is even in there with you, Fee,” a male voice called through the door, impatiently teasing in tone. “I’d like to see your _Zeizu_ before my beard goes white!”

“What beard?” Fili shouted right back, rising to his feet through Vadi’s snort of laughter.

“Five more minutes, or I’ll have Dwalin come break down the door! You’d’ve better have your trousers on!”

As the voices on the other side of the door quieted, Vadi wearily pressed her forehead into Fili’s chest. He certainly seemed comfortable with her, but she couldn’t be so sure about his royal entourage.

His hand came to cup the back of her head, his fingers combing through her oily hair, as if to read her mind. “Kili will see you first. I told Uncle you’d meet him tomorrow, that you were in need of rest,” Fili said, easing his thick fingers through her dark tangles.

Vadi sighed and pulled away from him, slow and deliberate. There was an innate fear behind her eyes, though the only sign of its presence was the agitated way in which she grit her aching molars together. "...and what if he is not as amiable as you? I'm sure not everyone can appreciate the scent of barn animals as much as yourself, your highness. I haven't even had the time to wash."

Fili glanced at her and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze as he slid himself up and against her side, all while easily wrapping his hand around her tiny hip. It was only a half-hug, at best, but it was the most affection Vadi had felt in years. 

“He pissed all over me as a pebble, and was dropped like a bowl of hot stew a moment later. I think he’ll have half a mind to be humble.”

Vadi laughed hard and shook her head in half-exhasperation. It seemed that Mahal _did_ have a good sense of humour.


	3. Chapter III- Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, jeez, it seems I'm actually getting invested in this thing. Dang. Hope you all enjoy!

Prince Kili, decidedly, was of the same good and gentlehearted stock as his elder brother.

In her distorted memory, exhausted with emotion and a lack of proper breakfast, Kili had been nothing short of a friendly delight. While Vadi noted that he did not kiss the back of her hand, as she had always assumed was customary upon meeting of noble dwarrowdam (though she could not blame him for avoiding her dirty skin), Kili remained a figure of glowing good-humour, a dwarf in the true prime of his life.

Their encounter must have only lasted a handful of minutes, for it wasn’t too long before the clomping of boots at the other end of the hallway sent Vadi backing herself against the door, timid and wild-eyed. She remembered ending the conversation with a half stumbling curtsy in her muddy skirts and a painfully awkward ‘thank you, your highness, it was an honor, m’lord’, before shutting herself in the cold comfort of her bedroom.

 _Her_ bedroom.

Sitting before the fire and irritably brushing her tangled, oily locks with the comb provided for her by the staff (the staff providing her with so much as a chipper _good morning_ was near-overwhelming), Vadi muddled solemnly over her rapid attachment to Erebor. She had only been there for a handful of hours, and already was she claiming the castle’s spare living quarters as her own. It felt good. She had never really had her own _anything_.

The tall, pearly-grey walls of the room consumed her in a comforting embrace, like the arms of a fine marble statue, locking her in a warm, dry locking of bodies. Candles clung to the polished bricks of the walls by brass fasteners, lighting the room in tiny bursts and casting flickering shadows across the mammoth bed and oak bedframe, as if the fire weren’t a good enough source of light by its lonesome. Everything matched; there were no patchwork sheets and grubby carpets in sight. From the comforter to the accent colours in the hand-woven carpet, Vadi was certain someone had spent weeks painstakingly assuring themselves that the metallic silver of the hand-mirror on the bedside table did not clash with the polished doorknob.

Ma had insisted that the only thing that could truly sicken a female was labor. For Vadi, it was colour-coordination; it made her want to heave sick into the fireplace.

This room was not the cheap inns and stained hay-beds of her childhood- a part of her itched to roll on the bed, soil the bed a little. If something was stained, at least she knew it was safe to use without getting hollered at for ruining something she couldn’t understand.

Wearily setting the comb aside, Vadi tucked her knees up and under her chin. She had heard Fili’s boots leave down the hall with Kili’s a while ago. The Longing still pinched in her chest like ivy-rash, thistles stuck in the very tissues of her being. She longed for the scent of him- musky and earthy and a little sweet.

Vadi was a late bloomer, Ma had told her so. As a lass, she showed no interest in her male counterparts, though that was not due to her lack of imagination or concept of romance. Ma simply did not understand that she had little interest in _boys_.

Grown dwarrow, with full beards and muscled arms and bellowing laughs, were the ones that had her blushing and fussing over her hair. Though none of them gave her the time of day, obviously; they all had a _Zeizu_ of their own, and couldn’t be bothered with the innocent interests of children.

Vadi had been told from her parents and family friends alike that The Longing and subsequent finding of one’s _Zeizu_ was celebratory, and proof that the Maker had plans for her future, had intentions to further her happiness. However, she doubted her parents ever believed she would find anyone. She was quite the ugly thing. _Thank Mahal for your eyes, child_ , Pa often advised when she was too busy sobbing over her reflection to get any work done. _Your eyes save that poor face._

The fire spat ember and flame when the charred log exploded with an angry _puff_ , a handful of burnt bark splattering across the inside of the fireplace, prompting Vadi to grab the nearby fire iron and shove at the smoking logs. Her eyes could save her in the villages and markets, but how would her beryl-bound shields fare in the lavishness of Erebor?

“Goodness, what has the fireplace done to receive such a prodding? Give the logs a moment to settle, lest you want ash on your skirts!”

The fire iron clattered to the floor in a cacophony of metallic clanging as Vadi stumbled backwards in her seated position, her heart ramming behind her ribs. Her hands ached for support in the face of the stranger in the room, though the only thing she could conjure up to brandish was her fallen comb.

With an anxious cry, Vadi whipped the fallen trinket across the room and got the stranger just above the bosom, a solid nick between her heavy breasts. The woman, in dark skirts and a severe bun, did nothing but shake her head and lean down to retrieve the comb from the floor, her white apron brushing the ground as she leaned forward on aching knees.

“In all my years of service, I have never been assaulted by brush,” the dwarrowdam huffed, tucking the comb into the pocket of her skirt and waddling to retrieve the abandoned fire iron.

“Mahal’s beard, have you no mind?! You scared me half to Mirkwood!” Vadi cried, a fiery blush to rival the fire’s glow consuming her cheeks.

“I knocked, and got no answer. You are no dwarfling, young lady, there is no use getting your braids in a knot over an unexpected visit,” the dwarrowdam said, hunching over the fireplace to tend to its irritated popping.

Huffing to herself, Vadi bowed her head in part-shame, teeth grinding softly behind her lips. Strangers never meant anything good, not to her, not to her family. Strangers never brought good news, or good _anything_. It was a fact.

“…I thought you were someone else,” Vadi said, rising to her feet but keeping her eyes trained on the dwarrowdam’s feet. Her ankles were swollen with age, but her feet were shoved into practical little boots. A working woman, like herself.

“And who else would come visit you in mid-afternoon, during tea-time, no less? People have much better things to do than to visit with a comb-tossing madwoman.”

Vadi considered biting back with a word even her father classified as too sour to be used in a public space, but the dwarrowdam’s dark eyes were gleaming behind chunky wrinkles, as if to stare right through her. Those were a mother’s eyes, and Vadi found she knew them well.

“I think madwoman is a little extreme,” Vadi managed to sniff, coaxing a warm chuckle from the dwarrowdam, who had stepped a little closer to get a good look at Vadi through her aging eyes.

The stranger was full-bodied, with heavy breasts and a round belly, thick hips and strong calves. She sported two chins, and possibly a third, though Vadi could not tell beneath her massive beard, which was tied in a convenient braid and adorned with simple gold beads. Though she was shorter than Vadi, there was a certain presence about her, like a strawberry bush amid fields of weeds. Subdued, but all the more present because of it.

“How old are you, child?” she asked, reaching up and gently taking hold of Vadi by the chin, brows furrowing in concentration as the dwarrowdam stared into Vadi’s textured skin, as if she were inspecting a chipped gemstone.

“Forty-six,” Vadi said neutrally, though there was no real way of knowing. Her family was not much for birthdays. She could be anywhere between forty-three and forty-nine, but forty-six seemed a good enough match for the time being. At least, until she got bored of it and decided to get older by her own means.

The dwarrowdam tittered and patted Vadi’s cheek. “You poor, poor thing, just look at you! All chicken bones. By Mahal, how long has it been since you’ve last eaten?”

Vadi curled her lip and drew away from her touch with a jerk of her head. “I eat _just fine_ , thank you. My mealtime schedule is none of your business. Now stop it with your touching, you are just nearly squeezing me as though you mean to turn my innards to cider.”

The dwarrowdam’s face twisted with contempt. “Listen now, girl, I will tolerate no such demands, especially on the part of an ungrateful piece of coal such as yourself! Did your parents teach you _nothing_ of how to treat others?” the dwarrowdam scoffed, raising a meaty finger mere inches from her face.

“ _Enough about my parents!_ ”

Vadi aggressively shoved the dwarrowdam back a few steps with a snap of her weak wrists, her chest heaving with liquid fury. The room was so small, she needed to get out. She needed to leave. All the silks and stones and useless things were _smothering her to death_.

Folding herself back against the wooden bedframe, Vadi squeezed her eyes shut hard and folded her arms across her bare stomach. She was so _exhausted_.

She heard the dwarrowdam sigh behind her, and listened to the shuffle of her skirts as she puttered about the room. She opened something ( _the dresser_ , Vadi assumed), there was more rustling of fabric, and she cleared her throat.

“…I am here to help you bathe, if you are at all wondering. The Prince himself requested I aid you. He figured I would be ‘good company’, or something of the sort.”

Vadi chuckled wetly, and sniffed harshly to clear her runny nose. “…he has ale froth for brains, that one,” she said, wearily turning to face the dwarrowdam. The diamond-like glint had returned to grace her eyes.

“I can easily tell him you said such things, you know. Nothing is stopping me from delivering such treacherous words to the Prince’s very ear.”

“He’ll hardly mind. Ale froth for brains, remember?”

“Come now, you paint him an unflattering portrait. I am certain he calls you much lovelier things, he is good at heart.”

“Oh, yes- I have been compared to the _entire pint_ of ale, froth _included_. I am positively drowning in romantic pleasantries.”

The pair of them laughed, one through her tears, the other through a half-hearted reprimand.

Vadi glanced at the dwarrowdam over her shoulder, and spotted the welting bruise sprouting on her proud chest. Just the sight of its purpling made her wince.

“…I _am_ sorry about the comb incident. Can’t say I haven’t got good aim, though.”

The dwarrowdam glanced down at her breasts past her chins and shrugged passively. “Not the worst I have gotten or seen. Besides, such tiny blemishes are not hard to hide. After being married for fifty years, ones learns how to hide these things.”

Vadi laughed, though she was unable to hide her own subtle blush despite her hair curtaining her face. “You are quite the rambunctious spirit, miss..?”

“Fregin, at your service.” Fregin gave an arthritic bow but recovered with the grace of a monarch.

“And Vadi, at yours.” Vadi offered her own clumsy curtsy in return, and managed a broken giggle when she stumbled off to her right a handful of steps.

Fregin smiled, her wrinkled face blossoming like a spotted sunflower. “That curtsy will need work, as will that horrid posture.”

Vadi’s expression playfully soured as she righted herself again with the help of the wall. “If it’s all the same to you, might we start with the bath?”

“By all means. Besides, you reek of dung.”

Vadi chuffed with surprise and settled her hands on her narrow hips. “You have quite the mouth, Miss Fregin.”

Fregin’s grin widened as she fetch the near-forgotten missile-comb and wielded it with fervor. “Quite the mouth and quite the hand, Miss Vadi. You’ve seen nothing yet.”


	4. Chapter IV- Pearls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted for Vadi to start exploring Erebor, so I decided the best way to start was with a bath! Also, there's a little Fili/Vadi content in there, per Ansta's request. I love those crazy kids. Please enjoy!

Vadi had forgotten the sheer bliss that accompanied bath time and felt foolish for it.

One of her earliest memories, one from when she was barely ten years of age, as that of a blurry image of her mother, scrubbing away at her pink skin by the shore of a river with a rough canvas rag. In retrospect, Ma had probably been frustrated with her wormlike squirming, because was scoured to the point of near-bleeding, but like everything Ma did, it was quick and effective.

The royal bathhouse was located directly across from the guest quarters, for the convenience of those staying in Erebor, so Vadi felt no need to hide behind the towel provided for her. The halls were empty, save a few wandering maids or servant-boys. No one paid her much attention, though she couldn’t fathom how they could ignore her gawking. Erebor was magnificent.

Like the remainder of Erebor, the baths were half-consumed by the mountain itself, causing the room to appear simultaneously eerie and cozy. The baths were deposited into a natural cave into the far right side of the mass of stone, furthest from the meeting rooms and kitchens in order to give its visitors ‘some well-deserved privacy’, at least according to Fregin. Vadi had insisted that she could do well enough with a pitcher of river-water, despite her desire for soap and steam, but Fregin had cut of her rambling with a curt look. Vadi had tried hard to hide her pleased smile, but it was getting so difficult. Everything was lovely.

Sinking low into the steaming bathwater, Vadi languidly tilted her head back to stare at the pearly stalactites dangling from the ceiling. The area where the baths were located were long ago a natural hot spring, according to Fregin, but the Kings of Old had drained its original waters, which were hot enough to sear skin. Due to its location, far from the mines and gold deposits, Smaug had left the area untouched during his time in the mountain.

Vadi had not known the terrors of Smaug, though she had heard his name more than once, mentioned barely above a whisper behind cracked palms; she had also never known Erebor. Her parents and she did not suffer the wrath of the beast- they were always on the move, and never stayed anywhere long enough to plant solid roots. In such a sense, Vadi was grateful. At the first taste of danger, her family was saddled and on the move before the worst could get to them.

The yanking of her hair caused Vadi to shriek with pain and grab at her scalp. Fregin told no lies, and though her hands were skilled at removing the semi-permanent knots in Vadi’s dark hair, she had no qualms about _tugging_.

“Have you no pity for my matted hair?” Vadi groaned, rubbing her damp head with the heel of her wrinkling hand. “I doubt you would enjoy getting your hair ripped from your scalp by a near-stranger.”

Fregin grunted, and Vadi caught her rolling her eyes in the water’s reflection. “I have the common sense to keep my hair from reaching such a state. And I would hardly call us strangers, not after I have seen you in the nude. As far as romance is concerned, I am closer to you than your own future husband.”

Vadi barked out a laugh, though she couldn’t help the nervous creak of her voice. “Fili and I have just met. There will be no marriage, not yet,” she said, turning in the bathwater to face Fregin and to escape the wrath of her torturous hands. “Besides, I thought the purpose of my visit was supposed to remain secretive for the time being, or so Fili said. ‘Knowledge for the family’, or something of the sort. How ever did you fathom why I was here?”

“Your Prince is anything but subtle in his hysterics,” Fregin said, taking a heaving seat at the water’s edge. “The moment he left you by your lonesome in the bedroom, he just about panicked and rushed to the forges, muttering to himself like mad. One of the ‘smiths said he was going on and on about _beryl_ , how he was in desperate need of beryl and silver. Your Prince is not shy to make an occasional appearance at the forges, but nothing like this. This was _different_.”

Vadi’s chest blossomed warmly at the thought of her blonde soul-partner ravaging the forges for jewels as a starving man would ravage bread. Yet, her heart could not help but sink to her stomach as she prodded her mind further for information about him. A Prince, a part-time blacksmith, a warrior of half-myth… Fili was all things to her but _familiar_. He was no different than a character from the fantastical tales of her childhood, distant and more impressive than anything she could ever amount to be.

A legend on paper filled with breath.

“He isn’t usually like that, so nervous?” Vadi asked, rising onto the edge of the pool with her elbows.

“No. Like his uncle, in that way. He has a level head, lest he is around his brother. Your appearance jostled him fiercely. Rumours had been flying for months after his brother got married, some saying he was Matchless, others that his One had gone to Mahal, passed on. After he met you, I doubt he had very much hope left.”

“I am sure he was hoping to meet some foreign beauty,” Vadi grumbled, drawing her fingers mindlessly through her short beard, which was clear of dirt from the first time in weeks. “Someone wearing furs and pearls, someone just _life-changing_.”

“Do not doubt yourself, child,” Fregin said, leaning over to pinch the flexible skin of her cheek. The touch burned, but made Vadi helplessly smile nonetheless. “Out of pearls or not, you _are_ life-changing.”

“Belief is only present at the suspension of fact,” Vadi retorted, pushing off the side of the pool by the ends of her toes and floating backwards, her hair dancing in inky tendrils around her face as she drifted away from Fregin’s touch. “The fact that I haven’t a coin to my name and smell like goblin-anus on a near-regular basis remains. I am disgusting.”

“Nothing can withstand the weight of time,” Fregin called, her voice bouncing off the tall ceiling. “Not even what could be previously called ‘truth’. It _was_ truth that no evil could breach the gates of Erebor, at one time; now, we are still digging our way out of dragon shite. Things are capable of change- your smell, for one thing.”

With a low grunt, Fregin tossed an amber, stone-like mass in Vadi’s direction, which landed harmlessly in the water beside her with a _plunk_. Due to the pool’s shallow waters, Vadi was able to retrieve the circular object with little effort. It slipped between her hands a handful of times before he got a firm grasp on it and pulled it to her eyes.

The bar, which Vadi had previously assumed to be solid, foamed between the grips of her tight fingers, drawing iridescent suds down the length of her pale arm. The semi-solid mass smelled strongly of honey and something a little earthy, but felt smooth to the touch. She could somewhat remember the smell from her time as a pebble, riding on her mother’s swollen hip in the marketplace; they never bought such things, food was a constant priority, but Vadi knew the scent well.

“Is this soap? Real, _good_ soap?” Vadi asked, voice rising giddily as she drew the sudsy bar to her nose and inhaled deeply. Mahal almighty, she would _drink_ the smell if she could! She hurriedly began drawing the soap across her chest and over her bare breasts; the curve of the wet bar followed the contours of her skin with ease.

“Oh, how I _adore_ Erebor!” Vadi howled with glee, scrubbing hard beneath her armpits and listening to her own laughter jump across the vast room. For the time being, things seemed as close to supernatural to Vadi as they would ever get, and she did not shy away from it.

Her time in the baths, and her laughter, were too short but well-loved. Vadi and Fregin spent a lofty chunk of their afternoon there, out of Vadi’s request, and Vadi only got out of the baths after her hands had wrinkled to the point of near-misrecognition. She was lightheaded from the heat and the thrill of it all, and Vadi hoped, unlike her brief conversation with Kili, that she would remember this event and all its pleasures in a few hours’ time.

“How at all do you get anything done with such lovely bathwater?” Vadi exclaimed dreamily as she wrapped herself in a towel, the one Fregin had retrieved from her dresser before they had left the guest quarters.

“Not all of us have the luxury to soak until we peel on a daily basis,” Fregin said, combing through Vadi’s thick hair as the girl sat down by the door, on a low stone smoothed down from years of use as a seat. “Though, I am very glad you did. You are just glowing, you seem pleased.”

“ _Mm_ , I am,” Vadi sighed, turning to putty at the sensation of Fregin’s fingers in her hair. The warm touch left a chill running down her spine, all pleasure and quiet contentment.

“Now, upon your meeting with the king, he will not confuse you for a mud pie and toss you from the balcony,” Fregin said, easily spinning her moist hair between her fingers, a blessed seamstress, as she braided her hair out of her face. Vadi might have sneered at the comment, but felt too comfortable to care.

_Perhaps Erebor was so horrid_ , Vadi reasoned as she melted further into Fregin’s skilled hands. Of course, such an existence of surplus and excess would stifle her eventually, but at least she could always escape to the baths. The use of water was not wasteful, but _necessary_ , as Ma would say. A pleasant necessity.

“I am growing old, child, and I will not be able to carry you to your bed if you grow heavy. My joints ache too much for such things,” Fregin chuckled, stirring Vadi from a half-sleep she did not realize she was drifting into. Her hair was already braided tightly, and her beard had already dried to completion.

“Willow is good for bones,” Vadi said to no one in particular, something she had learned long ago from a travelling healer, a son of man with black teeth and a perfect whistle. “The kitchens must have some willow powder.”

“My bones are not sore so much as worn down, like a dull battle axe with no means to sharpen it,” Fregin said, moving aside to help Vadi climb into a fluffy sheepskin robe, another item retrieved from her room. “It is age, child. You should not worry.”

A pang of something rotten stuck Vadi in the chest. She didn’t know the word for the emotion, but it was something like sympathy’s bitter cousin. “You should rest, then,” Vadi decided, pulling on the robe herself rapidly, as if to give Fregin’s hands a break from the mild weight.

“And how will I make enough to eat, then? We do not all have Princes at our disposal.”

Another pang, this time, pure guilt. The robe felt slimy on her skin, suddenly, and the scent of soap burned her nostrils.

She was accepting too much. She was inconveniencing people she did not know. She was demanding in her silence, and taxing in her presence.

She needed to go home.

“…I want to go back to my room,” Vadi said, voice gone even and cool, a twisted lie. She wanted to be alone because Fregin had made her feel like less than troll piss, in reality, but she wouldn’t say such things. Her parents taught her not to burn bridges. That much, she had learned from them.

Fregin was quiet, now. She was wise, and knew better than to ask her what had happened to make her go sour. Instead, she opened the door to the hall, and allowed her to lead the way.

Vadi returned to her room with little conflict. The walk was silent, but forgiving. At her door, she thanked Fregin with a bow of her head, but said nothing. Even if she had wanted to say something, there was nothing to be said to suit the mood, as sour as rotten hay. As she watched Fregin hobble away, Vadi leaned against the door and reached to touch her forehead; her bangs, still wet, had not fallen back into her eyes after Fregin had so diligently braided them away from her face. She wished they would dry a little faster. Vadi desperately wanted something to hide behind.

The door to her room opened with surprising ease, and shut even more effectively. Vadi was glad to be away from prying eyes.

Yet, it seemed she could not escape all.

Sapphire irises eagerly winked at her from the far corner of the room, and the muffled shuffling of boots made her heart jump.

How is it that he knew just when she wanted him, just when she was in need of a familiar face? Twin smiles graces their lips as they locked eyes. Fili was a welcomed face, even in his relative status as stranger.

“You washed,” Fili said, combing around the side of the bed to face her, hands extended towards her own.

“Your perception never ceases to amaze me,” Vadi said, mild but pleased, her rough hands sliding into his own eagerly. She didn’t realize how much she enjoyed the sensation of his skin on her own.

Fili weakly chuckled and squeezed her hands. “You make me feel so dense. I never know what to say around you. Not my fault you smell _so lovely_ and look _so_ …”

Fili did not need to finish his sentence for Vadi to go red, though her eyes never left his; his chest puffed, a proud robin, and she saw his shoulders drop, the ease returning to his body.

“Keep your blade of a tongue sheathed, your highness, lest you wish to injure me,” Vadi urged, though Fili only shrugged innocently.

“It is a part of me as the sun is part of the sky; separate one from the other and things all but fall apart,” Fili said solemnly, and Vadi returned the farce with a serious expression of her own.

“Surely, then, we must find another way to bolster the sheath, as not to dull the weapon. I am adequate at sewing, your highness. Your lips are safe in my care, if you wish to seal them.”

“I am sure they are,” Fili said, voice gone low and pleased, as he hovered a hairsbreadth closer so that their chests brushed. His hands grew tighter around hers, and she wished to look down, but Vadi would not dare break his gaze.

“Did you come to my chambers for such a procedure, or am I simply dancing in Luck’s shadow this evening?”

“Missed you, is all.”

“You saw me a few hours ago.”

“Did you not miss _me_?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking ‘bout you. Didn’t want t’ leave the first time, but I’d figured you were sleepy, wanted some time alone. When I came back, I heard you giggling, down the hall in the bathhouse. So I waited t’ see you.”

“Your baths are lovely. I could not bare to leave them, but I wanted to come back and talk with you.”

“About what?”

“Anything, but _you_ , really. I don’t want you to go again, not before we speak a little more. If your tongue is a blade, then let your mind be its swordsman, let it be guided and show me the extent of its skills. I want to know everything about you.”

Fili raised a blonde eyebrow suggestively. “You want such _bawdy_ details, and only upon our second meeting? I _blush_ , my lady.”

Vadi laughed and pulled her right hand from his, if only to reach over and tug on the braided tail of his moustache. “I beg of you to refrain from any stories that regard anything below the belt, your highness, to protect my fragile womanly sentiments.”

Fili groaned with dismay. “And those are all the best ones! You dare order a storyteller to ignore his masterpieces?”

“I am sure your ‘masterpieces’ can wait to be exposed until some other, more _private_ time.”

“I am _broken_.”

“And I am _clean_. Do not give me a reason to sweat, your highness.” 


End file.
